


Popping the Question

by alienchangeling



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, F/F, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 16:04:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3331244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienchangeling/pseuds/alienchangeling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carmilla has a question for Laura.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Popping the Question

Carmilla was more moody and less sarcastic than usual the week before graduation, which meant she had something on her mind. I had a lot on my mind, too, but everything on _mine_ was to do with graduation. Even if she hadn’t ever finished a degree before, there was no way graduation was bothering her too—a rite of passage for twenty-two year old humans wouldn’t phase a three-hundred-year-old vampire. I cornered her in our room the night before my dad was due to fly in and asked point-blank, “What gives?” 

She looked up from reading on her bed long enough to glare at me. “What?” 

“Something’s bothering you. You _can_ talk to me. You know, because you’re my girlfriend and I’m here for you?” 

“Sometimes, cupcake, I really can’t.” She stood up and tried to brush past me. 

I caught her arm. “You can ask me, you know,” I said, softly. Because there was really only one thing that could make Carmilla that avoidant. 

She froze. “Ask what?” 

I sighed. “Maybe we should just stop dancing around it and, you know, talk about it?” 

I was sure she wasn’t going to say anything. I was wrong. “Fine. Laura, do you want to be a vampire? No?—” 

I put my finger to her lips. “You didn’t let me answer.” Vampires don’t breathe, so it’s pretty noticeable when one catches her breath. “I don’t know. Now can we sit down and talk about this like normal people?” 

She scoffed. “Normal.” She still didn’t resist when I pulled her to sit on our bed next to me. Her tone was a lot softer when she spoke again. “I didn’t mean—I didn’t want to ask because I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear your answer, yes or no. I—just—I’ve been so happy with you, but it’s gone by so fast. And your self-preservation instincts still suck.” 

“I get it. I really do. That first time when I thought you were dead, that was bad enough, but the second time—the second time was when I knew I was in love with you.” I rubbed the scar running down the inside of my arm. Opening a vein still seemed like a small sacrifice to make. “I worry too.” Okay, that wasn’t _completely_ honest, because I was pretty sure that Carmilla wasn’t just worried about the latest great old one eating me, especially now that we were leaving Silas, and it wasn’t like I hadn’t been inspecting the corners of my eyes for wrinkles the other day. “What is it like?” Carmilla gave me this deer-in-the-headlights stare. I thought back to a long-ago conversation. “Don’t look at me like that. You were the one said you liked it, at first.” 

“That’s _not_ what I meant, sweetcheeks. In the seventeenth century, as a count’s daughter, I had no choices. I would have a marriage arranged for me, to a suitable member of the aristocracy, and when that happened I would move from being confined in my father’s castle to my husband’s castle. You have all the choices I didn’t, and you don’t need to die to be free.” 

“Okay, soooo, my question still applies? You never talk about it. Is it because you like it and don’t want to admit it? You think telling me would scare me away?” 

She chuckled, only to laugh louder when I gave her an offended look. “You missed by a mile. It’s—God, it’s been so long, I barely ever think about it anymore. My human life was so short, too, the three hundred years kind of overshadow the nineteen. I’ll try, though.” She sighed. “There’s good, bad, and just plain different. The good you know, the powers, the immortality. The bad…” She paused. “You take your heartbeat for granted until it’s gone. Humans, your bodies are alive, they’re always doing things without your thinking about them—your heart beats, you breathe, you fidget if you’re uncomfortable. My body doesn’t do any of that. If I don’t think about it, I stop breathing. When I’m asleep, I might as well be dead, not undead. I miss being warm, even if that meant freezing sometimes in that goddamn drafty castle. Sometimes it’s so hard to feel _anything_ —except for the hunger, that never goes away.” 

“How bad is it?” 

“Very bad, at first. What made it worse was that I was so clumsy. The combination made things gory. Later, I learned to manage it and got used to talking to my dinners again, and that made it easier. Nowadays, well, blood comes from the fridge.” 

“If I became a vampire, do you think I might—kill someone?” The last two words came out sounding a lot smaller than I’d meant them to. 

“I was turned two centuries before the invention of refrigeration by the leader of an evil cult with no moral compunctions whatsoever. Your chances would be a lot, lot better than mine, but I can’t say it wouldn’t happen.” 

“Okay.” That was an uncomfortable thought. I’d known that Carmilla had murdered without caring about her victims, even if she’d regretted it later, but there was a big difference between _dating_ a murderer and _being_ one. 

“The rest of it’s less important. Being nocturnal is inconvenient because nothing stays open at night, though that’s a lot easier than it used to be. You learn how not to cut your tongue on your fangs. That sort of thing, minor stuff.” 

“Was it worth it?” 

“For me? Yes. For you? You’d be giving up so much more than I ever had.” 

“Is that why you don’t want to turn me?” 

“I never said that,” she said, but she turned away from me while saying it. 

“What?” I leaned over as far as I could, trying to look her in the eyes, and said louder, “What?” 

“Being turned changes people. I’ve seen decent human beings become something else after they were turned. I don’t know why it happens, but you shouldn’t assume you’re immune. Everything will be different.  You’ll be different.” 

I’d gotten pretty good at reading between Carmilla’s lines. “You’re afraid that if you turn me, I won’t love you anymore.” 

She hung her head. “Maybe.” 

“Would you still love me?” 

“Laura…” 

“It’s a fair question!” 

“What I love about you has nothing to do with whether you’re a vampire or a human. Unless you decided to embrace your bloodlust and become like my mother, I’d still love you, even though I’m sure you’d be every bit as exasperating as a vampire as you are as a human.” 

I punched her in the arm for that one, not that she felt it. I’d run out of questions, so we sat like that for awhile, side by side, until Carmilla said, “Do you want to be a vampire?” 

“I don’t know. Is it okay if say that? I don’t know. I mean, it’s a huge decision—” I cut myself off, knowing I was rambling uselessly. “I don’t have to decide now, though.” 

“You don’t, but—if something were to happen and I could save you by turning you, would you want me to?” 

I covered my face in my hands. I could handle ancient gods of destruction, but I was pathetic at making big decisions about my own life. It was so much easier when it was clear what was right—tell the truth about Silas, save the girls from fates worse than death, battle the entity beyond human comprehension. Was becoming a vampire right for me? “I still don’t know. If it comes to that—I trust you, to do the right thing, whatever that is.” 

“Laura…” She stopped and sighed again. “Can we at least talk about this again sometime?” 

“Yes. Definitely. I just need some time.”


End file.
